


complicated

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy Kiss Battle, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: Lucky for Aerith, the Turks are always watching.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tseng
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Final Fantasy Kiss Battle 2021





	complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarasa_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasa_cat/gifts).



> for the prompt: tseng/aerith, it's complicated

Lucky for Aerith, the Turks are always watching.

Darkness hangs a soft curtain over Sector 5. Street lamps flicker, and Tseng shoots a thug in an alley on his way to the Church. Cleaning up her streets is the least he can do for her. Who knows what kind of refuse could enter her sanctuary if he allowed it.

Peacefully drooling, Aerith sprawls in her bed of flowers, chest rising and falling in gentle sleep. A smudge of soil adorns her cheek. Her nails, as ever, have dirt caked beneath. No matter how many times Tseng scrubs them, Aerith refuses to keep her hands clean. Her hair coils, an elegant snake in the grass. She’s kicked her boots off, and her mismatched socks are more hole than cloth.

Her bed is a sweet invitation Tseng accepts without remorse, stepping out of his shoes. He sits seiza beside her; her chest rises and falls, rises and falls. Like this, she appears almost innocent.

Work has kept him away for the past six days, leaving Reno or Rude to watch over her. Tonight is the first in over a week Tseng hasn’t slept on the couch in his office.

Tseng strips off his gloves to pet over and over her face. Her skin is soft as ever.

She peeks an eye open, squinting against the dark. “T-tseng?” Aerith yawns. “Been awhile, stranger. Miss me?” She smears the drool onto her jacket sleeve without subtlety.

“Aerith.” Tseng tangles his fingers into her hair.

A beat of silence—then she lays her head in his lap, breathing going soft and even once more, eyes closing.

The bracelets Tseng gave her—a gift, after her first successful fire spell during a sparring match with Rude—tinkle merrily, promisingly; Aerith tugs a lock of his hair, yanking him down as though it were a leash. He folds to her, bent nearly into a reverent zarei bow, and he steadies himself with his free hand. Her dry, chapped lips meet his.

Aerith smiles against his mouth, but turns her head when he darts his tongue over her bottom lip. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

She doesn’t release him, keeps him folded over her, his breath warm on her cheek. Tseng scrapes his nails over her scalp in reward. “You didn’t,” he corrects.

Aerith laughs, pressing her mouth to his again. His back and thighs ache from the position, but he holds it until she breaks away. Tseng straightens against the tug of his leash. “I guess not,” she says, a soft flush high in her cheeks as she gazes up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Will… will you stay?”

That old, gnarled vine of loneliness tangles deep in her.

As if he could do anything but. Aerith is special—the one who will lead them to the Promised Land and its salvation.

He thumbs over her cheekbone, smudging the dirt there. “Sleep, Aerith.”

Tseng should see her home, but her eyes close and she releases her grip on him—but not her hold over him. Rather than sleep, Tseng watches her without letting go.

The Turks are always with her. 


End file.
